


The Rescue

by Silverskin



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bondage, Group Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Nipple Play, Urethral Play, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 04:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17419364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskin/pseuds/Silverskin
Summary: A rescue mission in Raccoon city goes awry for Chris.





	The Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> First written in 2012, corrections and minor rewrites made.

Chris stopped for a moment to take in the hellish scenes around him.

For weeks, Raccoon City had been imploding. The whole place was awash with the chaos brought about by the spread of the T-virus. Its streets were scattered with wreckage, and the dark, evening sky carried the smoke of countless burning buildings.

Selfless as ever, he had entered the city alone, volunteering to seek out survivors before the place was vaporised. So far, things weren’t looking good. He’d been searching for a good hour already, and found only deranged zombies ready to rip him to pieces. All of the sluggish creatures had fallen easily to his expert aim before even getting close. More mercy killings than acts of self-defence.

“There’s got to be someone” the frustrated hero muttered, checking through broken windows as he jogged along the block.

His work however quickly went from disheartening to outright hazardous, as a mass of silhouettes grew in the smoke bank clouding the road ahead. He skidded to a halt just as the front of a huge phalanx of zombies marched into the clear air. Their stumbling ranks quickly filled the street from wall to wall, and soon there were even more appearing from behind. A block that moments earlier had been still as the grave was suddenly overflowing with groaning undead. Rotted forms now spilled from shattered doorways either side of Chris, man not likely to accept being left without an exit. Away went his pistol and off came the M-16 from his back. He sprinted for the nearest window. Brickwork all around lit up with yellow flashes as bullets carved him an escape route. With corpses tumbling in all directions, he vault inside.

His path through the building was an orgy of slaughter, rotted brains splattering the walls as the ace zombie killer made quick work of his adversaries. One long leap brought him out into the empty road on the other side: a road he knew wouldn’t stay empty for long. He ducked into an alleyway opposite, diving behind some dumpsters in the hopes that the deep shadows there would give him good cover. He watched as the zombies arrived, dragging themselves lazily in all directions, their forms glowing in the firelight. With their fresh carrion apparently vanished, they slumped and started drifting away aimlessly. To Chris they somehow managed to look even more gloomy than usual, considering they were dead.

“Must try harder guys,” he muttered with a grin, quietly removing the empty clip from his assault rifle.

“Hey you!” came a whisper from behind.

The surprised soldier’s calm satisfaction dissolved, and he wheeled his unloaded weapon around on instinct towards the voice.

Raised hands waved frantically from a crouched silhouette.

“Don’t shoot! I ain’t no zombie!” came a quiet but rushed plea from the cigar-smoking figure.

Chris exhaled hard with relief, his barrel dropping in synch with the unknown male's hands.

“You’re from the outside ain’t ya?” questioned the man in a deep southern drawl from behind the upturned collar of his raincoat.

“Yes, I’m here to evac survivors, but right now i could use someone who knows a safe route out of this neighborhood”, said the agent.

“Boy, am I glad to see you...this way”, whispered the man, beckoning Chris to follow.

Stealthily he crept away down the alley with his new guide, whose next words filled Chris with optimism.

“There are others, in a hideout. I’ll take you to ‘em.” the buzz-cut man declared, pulling a walkie-talkie from his pocket.

“I’ll let them know we’re comin’. R-1 to base, I’ve bumped into an Jarhead on the west side, meet us at the rendezvous point”.

Chris let the ‘ _Jarhead’_ description pass, noticing instead the two jagged lines shaved into the guy’s hair now they were out of the dark alley.

A scratchy “ _ROGER”_ crackled from the device.

The pair carefully weaved their way past danger spots for a good ten minutes until they came upon the street in question. Large signs hung from the walls all around, the words on them writ large in dead Neon bulbs. Phrases such as ‘HARDCORE SEX SHOW’, ‘XXX ACTION’, and ‘NO HOLES BARRED’. Most of them were powerless, but a few strip-lights on one place down the street seemed to be clinging to life.

“Wait, the red light district? You’re hiding out _here_?” Bemused Chris asked as they came to a halt.

“Well, it’s were my kind normally hang out after all”, shrugged the 30-something man, a knowing smile playing on his barely-visible lips as he glanced over the agent’s shoulder.

“ _Your kind?_ , what do you mea-NMMPHH!”  Chris’ back arched as a damp cloth slammed over his mouth.

A figure behind gripped him in a headlock, whilst his guide grabbed tightly on to his wrists. Chemical sensations filled his lungs, and he just had time to register one last panicked realisation he was being knocked-out before his brain shut down. His muscular bulk slumped, the last image filling his vision as it faded to blackness being the satisfied grin on the face of his supposed ally as he took a drag from his cigar.

After who-knows how long unconscious, Chris slowly awoke to the sounds of music and voices that seemed muffled and far away. He lifted his chin from his chest and opened his heavy eyelids. A warm, dark, windowless space came into focus around him, the main illumination coming from a single bright bulb overhead, its tin shade casting a crisp circle of light onto the soldier and the floor beneath his feet. Pulsing rainbows of light bled in through a passageway in the corner behind him, as did a repetitive heavy base beat and a chorus of moans and groans. With his stinging eyes not yet adapted to the darkness, Chris took in his own form first. Still clothed but robbed of his kit, he had a thick leather manacles buckled to his wrists, holding his arms out in a Y-shape. While his legs were bound together at the ankles and secured firmly to an anchor loop in the floor. He rattled the chains with his bulky arms, testing them for any signs of weakness.

“Oh, that ain’t gonna do no good boy”, came a deep yokel drawl from out of the shadows

“Wh-Whos’ there? Where am I?” Asked the surprised agent, just able to make out a human form lurking in the darkness ahead.

“Y’know, I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I was pleased to see ya. We don’t get many guys of your calibre round here.”

The infernal orange glow of a cigar in the corner of the man’s mouth momentarily lit his features as he sucked in a lungful of Cuban tobacco.

He stepped forward into the light, his body still wrapped from head to toe in a long brown raincoat.

_Him. He tricked me._

“I’m Raccoon-1, R-1 for short if y’like, hence the hairdo.” he said, running his fingers over the zigzag pattern shaved into the back and sides of his head.

“Y’know, you must have some real big balls to come into this city alone the way it is...”, he tailed off, stopping when their noses were just an inch apart before blowing his smokey breath in the hero’s face.

He pulled at the patch on Chris’ rounded deltoid, reading aloud the words emblazoned upon it.

“ _Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance,_ what are you? some kinda’ special ops or somethin’?” He questioned, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s right, and I'm here to save your lives” emphasized the stern response.

A flicker of a smile played on his captor’s lips.

“Look, I’m no threat to you, just untie me and we can all get out of here, ok?” Chris offered, still hoping this was all just a misunderstanding.

“Huh, that’s nice, but I don’t think we need savin’, do we boys?” Sinister laughter rang out from two silhouettes hidden in the darkness behind Chris as his captor slowly pulled the stump of his cigar from his heavily-stubbled jaw.

Dropping it to the floor, he crushed it under his booted toe.

“Hmmm, in fact, I think it might be you who needs savin’ from us”. R-1 declared as the two raincoat-clad men emerged either side of Chris, the same zigzag pattern carved into their crew-cuts.

“Wait, you don’t understand, this city’s going to be bmmmpph”. His warning was cut off by the men, who muzzled him with a leather gag.

There was something long, rubbery and bulbous attached to it. It slid to the back of his tongue, almost making him retch.

Their leader calmly stepped away, examining the items on a table ahead, allowing Chris’ more accustomed eyes time to take in the room. Light escaping from the top of the lampshade cast a small circle on the ceiling, revealing the joists and floorboards it was made from.

 _A basement_.

The walls were still barely perceivable, but they all seemed painted black, with an array of mysterious objects hanging on them from hooks.

“Phew, you sure came packin’ boy, look at this stuff. Pistols, machine gun, stun grenades, C4, the works.”

Impressed, he walking back into the light with Chris’ machete in hand.

“Y’know, I was gonna’ just use a pair of scissors, but I think makin’ use of this might be more fun.”

He thumbed its razor-sharp tip, before holding the glinting steel blade up in front of its owner’s face.

“Mmm, she’s a beauty alright. Ideal for the job.”

Pulling the bottom of Chris’ green shirt out from under his belt, he stretched the figure-hugging fabric away from his belly, slipping the blade underneath and letting its blunt side rest against the agent’s naval. A grin crossed the kidnapper’s lips as he felt a shudder run along the weapon as its cold surface touched hot skin. He let the elastic material snap back against the knife’s razor edge, starting a rip at the bottom of the shirt as soon as it made contact.

“Look at that! It wants to come off boy!” He cried, running the blade slowly up the hairy valley in Chris’ abdomen with barely any force.

The taught fabric shot away from the steel as soon as it was torn, exposing the broad, perfectly toned eight-pack beneath. Each stomach muscle tensed in time with Chris’ short breaths, air blasting from his nose as the machete rolled up and over his heaving chest. He lifted his chin, trying to avoid the sharp tip as it emerged at the base of his neck. Cleanly his collar was split, and light work was made of short sleeves too, which burst off each thick, outstretched pairing of bicep and tricep, leaving only gravity keeping the tattered shirt on his shoulders.

“I feel kinda’ like i’m unwrappin’ a birthday present”, laughed R-1, strolling around behind the agent and crouching down.

Chris heard a long rip rising up his left trouser leg, and was only able to work out how high it had got when the straps of his knee pad were ruptured, sending the protective guard clattering to the concrete floor. Reaching the top of his thigh, the blade turned in an arc over his pert bull-glutes and journeyed all the way down his other leg, freeing the second knee pad en route.

“Now, let’s see what we got”, said the boss, slicing Chris’ belt from the back while pulling the ruined top from his shoulders.

His pants fell away, leaving only one piece of clothing left protecting his dignity, other than his shoes, socks and fingerless gloves.

“A jockstrap!? Jeez, this just gets better and better don’t it boys?” said Raccoon-1, plucking at the elastic strap running under one of the agent’s buttocks.

Pure white with the bold red B.S.A.A acronym sewn in repeating letters around the waistband, its well-filled pouch drew the men’s eyes like a magnet. Outlined under the soft cotton, Chris’ thick flaccid manhood was clearly visible, curled over in a battle for space with his two impressive gonads. A jolt ran up the hero’s spine as the blunt edge of the knife was pressed between his cheeks and its length slid upwards under the waistband. 

It started to sever the wide elastic, but just as it was about to cut it completely, it stopped.

“You know what, let’s leave ‘em for now”, decided R-1, pulling the blade away with only a few overtaxed threads holding the jockstrap together.

Chris’ head was spinning.

One moment he was diligently searching for survivors, with all the confidence and skill he was famous for, the next he’s chained-up in his underwear in a cellar full of men whose intentions towards him he hated to guess at. And on top of all that, His chief captor was about to do something that would place him in even more jeopardy. He turned his back on Chris and threw the machete down onto the table with a clatter, but just as he did so, the agent’s radio lying beside it came to life. Green LEDs on the handset lit up and a tiny crackling voice could be heard coming from the earpiece. Chris had missed his hourly check-in, and now HQ was calling to find out why. Spotting an opportunity, Raccoon-1 picked up the device and held its thin tubular mouthpiece to his lips.

He pressed the button on its side and immediately started making zombie-like groans, gesturing for his assistants to do the same.

“THEY’VE GOT ME! NOO! GET OFF ME! AAAAAAGHH!!!” he gargled, holding the mouthpiece at arm’s length before dropping the handset on the floor and stamping on it.

“That should give your bosses somethin’ to think about hey boy.” smiled R-1 into the agent’s outraged eyes.

“Somehow I don’t think there’ll be a rescue party comin’ for you any time soon."

Chris knew the plan. Whether he was out of the city or not, the bomb would be dropped in 48 hours. This lunatic had inadvertently set the clock ticking on all their lives.

“Now what am I thinkin? Not givin’ a guest somethin’ to drink”, he said with false shame, reaching down under the table.

Chris was momentarily bathed in turquoise light as Raccoon-1 reached inside a small refrigerator, pulling out a steel flask from the neat stack inside.

Putting it under his arm, he picked up Chris’ pistol, pulled out the clip, and carefully removing two bullets.

“Now, you’re gonna drink this up like a good boy”, R-1 ordered mockingly, his guys clutching the agent’s head while he unscrewed the top.

“Mmmph FUCK YOU!” Chris spat out as the gag was torn from his mouth, ropes of spit falling from the hard rubber phallus that had held his tongue down.

He pursed his lips tightly the instant the flask was pressed against them.

“Hmm, I didn’t think you would. That’s why I got these.” Raccoon-1 held up the two copper-tipped bullets between his fingers, a smile rising at the corner of his mouth as he commenced pushing one up Chris’ left nostril.

His whole body fought wildly against its restraints, but the men behind held him tightly, and R-1 had no trouble shoving each fat slug in all the way to their rimmed bases. With his nasal passages blocked, Chris knew he would have to breathe through his mouth eventually, but resisted the need to anyway, his face turning crimson as R-1 eyeballed him passively.

The twisted man decided that maybe a little gentle persuasion was needed, so clamped his hand firmly onto Chris’ bulge, making him gasp.

The moment he did so, the flask was shoved in, his teeth biting down on its short aluminium neck as he tried too late to block its entry. They yanked his head back, flooding his mouth with some unknown fluid, ice-cold and thick as maple syrup. It was a simple choice, either choke on the oddly flavourless liquid, or swallow it. He gulped fast, his captors determined he drink the whole flask-full. A single drop ran down his jaw, glowing a bright aqua-marine, and his tongue and throat tingled like he was gulping chilli sauce, but it seemed to carry no heat.

“Good boy! See! That weren’t so difficult were it?” nodded a satisfied R-1, scooping up the stray drop from Chris’ chin and sucking his finger clean.

“Ok boys, you go have some more fun while I fill G.I Joe here in on a few things. And tell R-4 I’ll need him real soon.”

R-2 and 3 smiled as they drifted back into the shadows together to be enveloped by the lights and noises in the next room.

“This stuff’s got quite a kick the first time. You’ll feel it pretty soon”. R-1 said, holding up the empty container.

A flash of recognition crossed Chris’ eyes when he spotted the distinctive Umbrella Corporation logo printed on its polished surface. He tried to speak, but no noise came out of his mouth. His entire oral passage was numb.

“Cat got your tongue? Yeah, that happens too.” R-1 nodded knowingly, resting his backside on the table.

Hmm, since you’re at a loss for words I might as well talk a while. Well, as I’m sure you know this town’s been comin’ apart at the seams for a while now, and well, a guy stuck here learns pretty quick to live off the land. I found this stuff while I was searchin’ for supplies over at the University. Huge stacks of it in a store room down in one of the labs there. It said ‘Bio-feed’ on the boxes so I figured ‘ _i gotta drink somethin’, it’s worth a try ain’t it?’_ Pheeew _,_ it damn near took my head off but sure filled a hole in me, in more ways than one.”

“You feelin’ it yet boy?"

He was.

A deep heat radiated from Chris stomach, rapidly spreading to every corner of his body. His head buzzed, the features of face grinning in front of him seeming to grow sharper and more intense.

“Yeah, you’re feeling it alright. Don’t worry, the juice won’t hit you nearly so hard next time.”

‘ _What the hell has he given me?!’,_ the agent worried, knowing that it could be virtually anything if it came from Umbrella’s advanced research lab on the campus of Raccoon City University.

He was right to be worried. The substance R-1 had stumbled upon was a potent Bio-feed for the terrifying mutated bipeds of Umbrella’s ‘TYRANT’ program. The ‘Juice’, packed with a broad cocktail of stimulants and other substances, had been designed to fuel and enhance the performance of huge bio-organic killing machines, not perfectly normal, healthy humans. The full effects of its consumption were already well known to every other man down here, and Chris too would find out soon enough.

“Anyways, I’ll fill you in on the rest later, for now I’ll leave you in the capable hands of R-4 here."

In his woozy state, Chris hadn’t heard the other man enter, who was now lowering a ball-gag over his face from behind. Big as a peach, fire-red and full of holes, it filled his mouth, fixing his jaw wide open.

“Enjoy” R-1 chuckled, giving the agent a couple of gentle slaps on the butt-cheek as he departed.

 The clinking of tiny metal parts rang out as his leg manacles were uncoupled from each other, each ankle spread wide and clipped to their own anchor loop. Chris heard something being removed from the wall and a moment later his eyes widened as R-4 stepped in front of him. A huge Latino bodybuilder of a man, the top half of his head was covered by a black rubber cowl that concealed half his face down to the cheekbones. Four leather straps looped around his upper body, meeting in an X at a large steel ring in the centre of his chest. More straps encircled his biceps and thighs, and a tight, jet-black jockstrap hugged his pelvis. The mirror opposite of Chris’ pure white underwear, its bulky contents were as rock-hard as the beefhead’s nipples, the clear outline of an engorged helmet tenting the pouch’s left side. But for the heavy army boots on his feet, every other inch of his flushed bronze skin was bare, and the muscles beneath seemed pumped and hard, like he’d been working-out furiously for hours.

_Oh fuck._

Chris dizzily gulped, watching as the silent man slapped a cat-of-nine-tails against his open palm.

He let a single lazy strike of the weapon glance across the agent’s belly, hitting his skin with no force at all.

Slowly, he began to circle him.

More soft hits came, with long pauses between each, on his legs, his shoulders, and his chest.

On it went, the rate increasing at a snail’s pace, along with the force, but climbing all the same.

After five minutes the strikes were starting to sting, eliciting muffled grunts from Chris as control of his vocal chords returned. 

Each hit was now coming so fast after the other that his whole body tingled from the pain, but then, just as it seemed to be approaching a sadistic apex, it stopped.

Another item came off the wall, this one a three foot whip, it’s length uncoiling from R-4’s hand as he let the tension build for a second, before bringing it down hard on Chris’ back.

Long red welts crisscrossed his spine. His whole body flexed against its restraints.

His Juice-addled brain swam in the burning sensations, psychotropic drugs corrupting his mind to the point where he couldn’t tell if it felt good or bad.

After five more minutes, another pause came.

The soldier sucked in air through the ball gag, his muscle-stacked ribcage heaving as Raccoon-4 hovered for a moment behind him, preparing to deal with the one area of Chris’ body he had pointedly ignored.

A flat, inch wide, two foot long rubber lash with a tip shaped like a snake’s tongue wobbled in his grasp.

Chris’ back arched as his bull-glutes felt its lick, R-4 bringing the full force of his muscular arm to bare. Again and again the rubber tongue lashed against Chris’ tensing rear, sending shockwave-like ripples through the firm, toned flesh.

Broad pink marks streaked the two pert, naked mounds as they were lashed into oblivion, the stinging making the agent’s eyes stream.

His cheeks burned, the heat seeming to envelope his whole pelvis, and when his face lolled forward for a moment, a shocking sight greeted his wet stare. His manhood had swelled under the thin material of his jockstrap, its girth still soft enough for the fabric to hold it down against his balls, but it was swelling all the same.

Chris shook his head in disbelief.

Every slap of rubber at the back sent a wave of blood pulsing into the front.

‘ _No no_... _This can’t be happening...’_ he protested inside his own skull, trying to fight off the corrupting feelings marching like a zombie army over him.

Soon R-4’s strikes had his manhood going to full mast, the rising pillar tenting the pouch until its edges lifted away from his inner thighs. His broad glans pulled it so far out from his groin that his balls spilled from the gaps, the pendulous orbs sagging either side of the strap that ran under his perineum.

He wasn’t just erect now, he was ERECT.

To Chris it felt harder than it had ever been, standing firmly to attention and jutting so Iron-hard from his hips that when he jerked from each lash, it barely moved.

R-4 smiled between hits, spotting the new shadow cast between the agent’s outstretched boots.

His subject suitably aroused, He neatly placed the rubber weapon back on its hook, and casually walked to the table. Beads of sweat gathered on Chris’ brow as his M16 rifle was picked up and its large curved clip disconnected from the barrel. Taking a single long bullet from it,

R-4 walked back up to the agent and pulled at the waistband of his jockstrap until his cock sprang out. Holding the thick-veined shaft in his hot grasp, he rolled his tongue over the bullet tip before pressing it against the slit of the agent’s wide, purple glans.

“MMMMMPH!!” Chris’ spit sprayed from the ball-gag, his head rolling as the copper point entered his manhood.

But the impassive expression on his abuser’s face never wavered as he relentlessly pushed the slug home with his index finger. Chris’ urethra expanded even further as the bullet widened mid-way up its brass casing, until eventually the lip of its flat base met with his open slit.

With the wicked installation complete, R-4 pulled the jockstrap back over the agent’s dick, letting the stretchy material do the work of holding the projectile in place.

‘ _Why the fuck am I still hard!!??,’_ Chris wondered half deliriously, peering down at the still inexplicably turgid column jutting high from his groin, testing the limits of its fabric prison.

The answer of course lay in the torrent of substances now coursing through his veins, jacking-up his body more and more with every passing minute. R-4 moved behind him once again, placing a bucket of lubricant on the floor before fetching another item off the wall.

A foot long, black, and thin as a garden hose, an even-thinner tube snaked from its back end to a small hollow sphere. He dipped its flexible length in the sloppy fluid, coating every inch of its smooth surface until it gleamed. The first Chris knew of it was when it’s sloppy rounded tip arrived at his backside. He thrust his hips forward, desperately trying to evade it, but the chains would only let his back arch so far. Ragged Saliva-filled breaths spat from between his teeth as R-4’s fingers guided it into his muscular crevice.

_THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING_

But it was.

Muscular, virile Chris Redfield, pride of the B.S.A.A, scourge of monsters and villains the world over, was now the plaything of some sick uncaring freaks, his body polluted with mind-bending stimulants and now being deviously violated.

The rounded tip slipped through his virgin sphincter with frightening ease, and it’s narrow twelve inches wormed their way effortlessly inside until his ring gripped a narrow neck at its base. R-4’s hand hissed as he squeezed on the ball-pump. Air swelled the dilator. Chris could feel it filling in his rectum. Two inches wide, then three, then four, its increasing girth pushed against the walls of his passages. More and more it expanded, stretching his insides until he felt like it could tear him in two.

Now fully inflated, R-4 left the pump dangling between Chris’s legs and moved around to his front to perform the next sick task.

“UUAAGH!!” came a muffled cry from the agent, every muscle in his body tensing as a pair of crocodile clips bit down hard on his nipples, almost breaking the skin.

R-4 tapped and pulled at them, causing there their teeth to chew at the erect brown nubs in ways that had the agent’s hard-on spasming madly in his underwear.

“NUUHHH!” he pleaded, the pain of his mistreatment seemed only to get him more aroused.

He screwing his eyes shut tight, and controlled his shaky breathing, trying to push through the sensations.

His efforts to regain control of himself would be utterly wrecked by R-4’s next move. Turning his attention back to Chris’ rear, he took hold of the air pump and started pulling at the still-inflated toy. It pushed at his anus from the inside, making the still tight, unbroken ring stretch out from between his buttocks. With the tugging the unrelenting, it gave way, dilating wide to eject the obscene device, Chris’ herculean quads shaking violently from it.

The last inch slipped from inside him and his frame slumped.

A small, foolish part of his mind allowed itself to believe it was all over.

The next item being lifted from its hook would soon put an end to that reckless hope.

A Dildo, as long as the dilator but solid rubber and thick as a man’s forearm, with undulating ribs running down it’s black shaft from a broad-rimmed crown. R-4 kneeled, dipped the rubber phallus in lube, tightened his grip on the handle at its base, and aimed it’s dripping head at the now-loosened manhole.

He thrust upwards with callous speed, popping the huge cockhead past the agent’s ring in one motion, and then simply stopped.

He knelt there motionless, letting Chris’ sphincter hug the top of its shaft, and drank-in the erotic pleasure of having such a powerful man completely at his mercy. His masked eyes rolled up the sweaty, muscle-stacked, whip-marked spine, waiting for a reaction. Chris looked down over his shoulder, unnerved by the stillness, and the moment his questioning gaze met R-4’s, the muscle-freak rammed the monster home.

A bellowing groan rumbled from the shocked agent’s throat.

Back out it came, only to be thrust in again to the hilt.

Again and again the invader charged his hole, the barely-trained chute beyond hugging it close.

Chris’ ring burned as each one of its ribs rattled through, but he felt no pain from it, none at all.

His body stiffened on the inward strokes out of instinct more than anything, and soon even that stopped. He found his breaths slowing, his groans becoming quieter and more lengthened as the minutes of ramming ticked by.

A tiny voice in his head whispered its revulsion at his body growing used to it.

A last voice of protest that was about to be silenced.

R-4 thumbed a red button on the dildo’s handle, and the entire column began to quake. Chris’ head rolled back on his shoulders as vibrations rippled through his inner reaches. The unbelievable stimulation spread like a shockwave over everything that mattered. His prostate, his balls, all the way to the end of his cock. The buzzing permeated all his erogenous zones. Precum welled up inside his urethra, lubricating the rifle bullet, the pressure pushing against it. The projectile began to rise up, half-freeing itself to the point where its brass casing narrowed. It allowed just enough space for the clear fluid to ooze out of his slit, before the elastic pressure of his jockstrap forced the projectile back inside.

His abdominals quivered from it.

The dildo’s pistoning generated ever more pre-cum, so the process repeated, leaving Chris being slowly fucked in the cock by one of his own bullets.

But he felt no pain from it.

At least, it didn't seem like pain.

He didn’t know the difference anymore.

This new sensation just piled up with all the others.

He was completely lost in it all now.

His skin was flushed with blood and all the veins on his muscle groups stood out beneath it, the hair on his head and in his armpits heavy with sweat. He looked down at his throbbing groin, the outstretched pouch of his underwear stained dark now with the product of his own loins.

Sweat dripped from his nose, landing on the fabric-covered organ he was now desperate to touch.

Sensing his work was done, R-4 halted his ministrations and pulled out the dildo, only to fill Chris’ vacant backside with an equally heavy-duty butt-plug.

Coming back around to Chris’ front, R-4 looked the agent squarely in the eyes.

The defiance was gone. His will to fight it had totally dissolved.

He smiled, his eyes narrowing as he nodding with satisfaction.

_Yeah, you’re ready._

He was.

Two thirsts were eating away at Chris' insides, one the insane need for sexual gratification, the other a very literal thirst for the contents of that small humming refrigerator.

He stared at it hungrily, barely noticing R-4 walking behind him again. After freeing Chris’ legs, He took hold of a crank handle on the wall, turning it at speed until he slumped to his knees. With the hazy hero not even trying to resist, he unclipped the chains and pulled his wrists into the small of his back, locking the manacles together before he had chance to touch his hard-on.

While the hero panted on his haunches, R-4 back-stepped to the room’s exit, giving a thumbs-up to someone beyond.

“Well, looks like you’ve been havin’ some fun.” observed Raccoon-1, approaching the kneeling agent as R-4 departed.

Chris wanted to say something, but his mind was blank. His brain only seemed interested in considering two things.

His need to drink, and his need to masturbate.

R-1 followed his eye line to the refrigerator under the table.

“Mmm, yeah, I see. You thirsty ain’t you boy? Well, you had a whole bottle-full earlier...”

His sentence trailed off as he saw the desperate expression on Chris’ face.

“...ah what the hell, a couple more sips won’t do no harm.”

Out came another cold flask, set gently on the table top.

“We won’t be needin’ these now will we boy?” he said, pulling the bullets from Chris’ nose and unbuckling the ball-gag. 

Standing tall before the agent, he unbuttoned his coat and let it drop from his shoulders. Beneath lay a totally naked body, as bulky as R-4’s and looking just as pumped. A chain ran down from both of his pierced nipples and through a ring in the tip of his frighteningly hard cock, restraining the throbbing twelve inch beast upright against his belly.

“Well then, let’s see how thirsty you are boy”

After unchaining his dick, R-4 took up the flask again, holding it to each of his nipples and smearing them with the thick phosphorescent fluid. Setting the flask back down, he kneeled in front of his sweating captive.

“Lick it off boy.”

Chris stared blankly.

His mind reacted instinctively, trying to find what should have been an obvious reason not to go near it, but nothing came. His head drew a blank, only his need to swallow the Juice was present, and it already had his lips on the man’s chest. He sucked like a hungry puppy on the first nipple, rolling his tongue around its silver ring to get every last drop.

“Yeah, that’s it, good boy...and the other”, R-4 demanded, pulling Chris’ head onto the second nub with both hands.

Soon enough all that was left on the hard brown skin was the agent’s glistening saliva.

“One more mouthful, and then we’ll go see the boys next-door”, rasped R-4, pouring a trickle of bio-feed onto his cockhead.

“Tuck-in boy.”

Again nothing entered Chris’ head but getting that luminous blue liquid down his throat. R-4 could have spread it on a cattle prod’s electrodes if he’d wanted to. It no longer mattered to Chris. He lent down and mouthed the pulsing glans with relish, running his tongue over its hot flesh and thick steel ring.

Finishing with one last clean sweep around the rim, Chris had his head pulled back by the panting pervert.

“I think it’s time we join the party boy”, He grinned, grabbing the agent under the arms and yanking him to his feet.

Chris’ shaky legs carried him towards the sounds and colours leaking in through the passageway, and in an instant he was enveloped. A rainbow of lights pulsed and strobed all around him, and the fierce music’s heavy base vibrated inside his chest. But all this was as nothing to the lurid spectacles erupting all around him.

A gang of men, of all different sizes and colours, were feverishly consuming each other’s bodies. Every position and angle imaginable was employed as they fucked with crazed passion. On the floor and up against the red brick walls, cocks drilled holes, some blasting their hot seed high into the humid, musky air for a waiting mouth to catch.

In the middle of it all on a low platform, an obscene sight was pointed out to Chris. A man on his knees, his ebony glutes stuck high in the air, clawed with both sets of fingers at his own ring. Lost in self-service, his forehead slid around on the stage and his spine undulated as he slipped most of his lubed digits in and out of his sensitive chute.

“That’s R-17, he’s ready for a drillin’ ain’t he boy”, Raccoon-1 poured into the agent’s ear from behind while tearing away his jockstrap.

A wave of precum issued from Chris’ cock as it spat out the rifle bullet, the clink of the projectile as it danced on the concrete floor drawing the solo showman’s attention. His eyes widened as he caught site of the handsome hero’s long, broad hard-on, and he immediately shuffled around, pointing his held-open glutes straight at him. With his hands still bound, Chris knew only the shameless man-whore ahead could satisfy his second need.

He was right on the edge of letting go.

All he required was the smallest push from R-1.

“Go on boy, he wants it, fuck him. Go give him what he needs.”

Chris raced forward, jumping knees-first onto the platform and slamming his thick ten inches into the hungry hole all the way.

“FFFUUUCKK!” he groaned as the man’s tight chute wrapped itself perfectly around him, the heat of his insides almost burning his throbbing weapon.

“That’s it, wreck that tight ass boy!” cheered on R-1, slapping one of the agent’s flexing buttocks as the fucking commenced in earnest.

Chris thrust hard, throwing all his prodigious muscle power into the man-hole that was pushing back to meet him with just as much enthusiasm.

“God DAMN, I gotta get me some of this!” R-1 decided, kneeling on the platform behind Chris, whose rhythmic stride faltered briefly as the butt-plug popped from inside him.

R-1 gripped the short chain linking the agent’s wrist manacles together, and waited for him to plant his member to the hilt, aiming his own pierced crown at the appealing target ahead. Chris pulled back, and in one go impaled himself on the upward-curving pillar until pubic hairs were tickling his bull-glutes.

A string of expletives issued from his mouth.

He’d never experienced anything like it. Shifting his hips forward had his cock engulfed by a warm, soft passage, and shifting them back again had a ringed column pummelling his prostate. R-1 rode him like a bucking bronco, leaning back as the threesome upped the pace minute by minute.

“WHOOOOO YEAHHHHH! RIDE MY FUCKIN’ MEAT BOY!!!” R-1 yelled at the top of his lungs.

Chris was now pushing back with as much force as he was pounding into the man ahead, revelling in the sensory overload.

The veins in his neck protruded, and his thrusts started getting ragged. R-1 knew he was close, and wrapped his arms around him, gripping the crocodile clips on his nipples with his full fists. The metal teeth gnawed at his sensitive nubs as they all moved in unison. Their motion synchronised with the beat of the music, and Chris felt like the lights were reaching inside his head. It all washed over him, and then he felt it. All the nerve endings in his body seemed to coalesce on his groin, and his ring clenched hard around R-4’s thick, pulsing shaft.

The muscle-freak slammed his body forward, locking their three hips together a split second before the hero came.

“FUUCKK YEAAAHHH!!” Chris cried out, R-4 savagely ripping the clips off his nipples as the first blast of cum spurted from his hard-on.

Searing hot seed painted R-17’s guts, just as the new sensation hit Chris of another man’s spunk filling his own chute.

“YEAAH, THAT’S IT! TAKE IIITT!” R-1 exclaimed through gritted teeth, pile-driving his sperm deep.

At the same time R-17’s cum jetted down onto the platform, hitting it so hard it could almost have stripped the black paint off the wood. They came together for what felt like forever, their bodies needing time to drain the sizeable reserves from their balls. They stayed connected, motionless as the post-orgasmic high washed over them. It was odd. Chris had just cum longer and more powerfully than he ever had in his life, but he didn’t feel tired, not even a little.

“That’s the Juice boy”, R-1 breathed into the back of Chris’ neck, seemingly reading his mind.

“That’s what it does. It’s like rocket fuel to a man, keeps his body primed and the hormones flowin’. I haven’t slept in days, haven’t needed to. Drink the Juice and you just keep goin’. Look at them boy, look how strong it’s made ‘em. You feel it too, don’t you?” he asked the silent soldier as he took in the men around him.

All of them had that same pumped-up look, and now Chris realised why. The Bio-feed in their systems had made them inexhaustible, and an unending sexual workout had sculpted and toned their super-charged bodies to perfection. That same fuel was now coursing through his own blood vessels, and the truth was, he did feel it.

He felt stronger and more alive than he ever had.

“But I forgot, you wanna leave don’t you”, Racoon-1 said, his tone suddenly changing, pulling out of the still-restrained hero and then pulling him off R-17.

Before Chris had a chance to react, he was frog-marched at speed out of the room and up four flights of a stairs, coming to a halt at the roof door. R-1 unbuckled the manacles and freed his hands, then kicked open the door in front of them.

“Go on, fire escapes’ over there.” He said bluntly, nodding dismissively at the rusty ladder poking over the wall.

“...I...b-but...” Chris mumbled, only to be cut off.

“The whole world’s fucked up out there, and they all think you’re dead anyway. Now, you can go back to all that, all the death and the horror, cleanin’ up everyone else’s shit, or you can be one of us. No rules to trouble you, and you’ll be stronger and more satisfied than you’ve ever been.”

Chris looked out at the infernal scenes playing out across the city.

Explosions, Smoke and screams filled the night air.

“They were all like you once...” R-1 said, gesturing down the stairwell,

“...all with their fears and their weaknesses. They all resisted at first, but they all gave in. R-17 was the last one to join us, couple of weeks ago.”

He stepped towards Chris, leaving only an inch between them.

“So, who are you boy, the slave you are out there, or the super man you are with us?”

“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” he asked, emphasizing each word.

A few moments of silence passed between them, the orange glow of countless fires shining on their faces, until Chris finally let go.

“R-18,” he gasped, slamming his mouth against the other man’s, sharing a deep, full-bodied kiss.

Too soon the agent had to pull their lips apart, needing to speak.

“Wait...there’s...there’s something you need to know...”

Finding out that Armageddon was coming for them and the city, the gang indulged in one last marathon sex session, the danger only adding to the thrill, with Chris fucking and sucking his way through all his new brothers for the next twelve hours.

He knew a place where they would be safe, an abandoned cold war bunker up in the mountains, just an hour’s drive outside the city.

Mid-morning, they loaded up abandoned army trucks with the vast stockpile of flasks taken from the lab, and made their escape through the debris-strewn roads.

A single raincoat-clad figure, his jaw dark with stubble, hung from the door of the lead truck’s cab as it ploughed through wreckage, lighting up the air with machine gun fire as he cleared their path of zombies.

A man with Raccoon stripes shaved into the sides of his new buzz-cut.

An hour later, that same man stood just inside the entrance to a bunker, thrusting his tongue into another passionate kiss as the hot light of a nuclear detonation disappeared behind the closing blast-door.

The man who had once been Chris Redfield...left the world to fix its own problems.


End file.
